


Talk to Me

by SailorLestrade



Category: Mötley Crüe, The Dirt (2019)
Genre: Angst, Caring Nikki, Drinking, Heavy Drinking, Hurt/Comfort, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:20:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22160197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorLestrade/pseuds/SailorLestrade
Summary: Tommy needs someone to help him.
Relationships: Brittany Furlan/Tommy Lee, Tommy Lee/Nikki Sixx
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	Talk to Me

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly don't know where this came from. Sorry guys.

Tommy didn’t have a problem with drugs. Yeah, he might have back in the 80’s, but so did everyone else. But everytime he turned around, someone was telling him he had a problem. An attitude problem. An anger problem. A drinking problem. Yeah, he would admit that he was a bit hot headed, and yeah, he did mouth off when he needed to be quiet, and yeah, he did enjoy a drink, but they weren’t problems. He had them all under control.

That’s where there was a video out there circulating of Brittany freaking out and calling 911 while Brandon stood over him after having just knocked him out. Because Tommy totally had everything under control. That’s why Pamela took every chance to jab at him in interviews. That’s why Heather left him in the first place. 

Yeah, Tommy had everything under control…

“T?” Tommy heard a voice outside of his studio. How did anyone know he was here? Brittany didn’t even know he was here. “T, can I come in?”

Who was that? Tommy couldn’t figure it out. He looked at the table he was sitting at, clutching an empty glass and there were, fucking hell three empty bottles. When did that happen? He didn’t think he’d been sitting there long enough to drain three bottles.

“Tommy, please?”

Wait. Was that Nikki? No, it couldn’t be. Nikki made it perfectly clear after the last show that he didn’t want to see Tommy ever again. Tommy had to figure out sometime where these hallucinations came from, because nine times out of ten, it was fucking Nikki. And that shit hurt more than when he’d see his mom or dad.

The door opened then and Tommy couldn’t stop the tears that were falling down his face as the black haired bassist made his way into the dim room. He heard the door close behind him and watched as Nikki made his way over to him, a small gasp coming from the older man as his eyes fell on Tommy.

“Jesus,” Nikki whispered.

“You’re not real,” Tommy slurred. “Go ‘way.”

“Damn it,” Nikki watched as Tommy shook the three bottles, looking for more of the liquid. “You’ve been in here for two days T. They’re all empty.”

“Nah,” Tommy shook his head. “Two hours tops.”

“No,” Nikki told him. “You have been here for two days. Brittany called me.” Tommy looked up at him. He looked different than the Nikki’s he normally saw. Sometimes it would be a young guy hiding behind a mass of black hair, telling Tommy to drink more, it’ll be fun. Sometimes it was a much older version, telling Tommy how much he hated spending all this time with him, and he never wanted to see him again. That one always hurt. He liked the younger one better.

“My hallucinations know who she is now?” He asked. Nikki looked surprised for a moment.

“Fuck,” Nikki sighed. He reached out and grabbed Tommy’s arm, placing Tommy’s trembling hand in his. “Your hallucinations ever touch you before?”

“N-no,” Tommy shook his head. “But you can’t be real. You hate me.” He went to pull his hand away, but Nikki held onto it like a vice, trying to keep Tommy anchored to the here and now.

“I don’t hate you. I have never hated you,” Nikki told him. “I love you. You know I do. I just hate the fucking demon you let possess you.” Nikki used his free hand to grab one of the bottles sitting on the table. “You let this control you Tom.”

“No I don’t,” Tommy shook his head. “I have it under control.”

“Then why don’t you remember that you’ve been here two days?” Nikki asked. “Do you remember the last time you ate? Do you remember the last time you picked up your drumsticks? Do you even remember coming in here?”

Tommy didn’t want to answer. He just wanted to get out of here. He had everything under control and he didn’t fucking need Nikki poking holes in his theory.

“Tommy, I can’t lose you to this,” Nikki told him, his voice softer and...shit, was he crying? “Do you think I want to see on the news that you died because of this? Do you think I want to get a call from Brittany or even fucking Vince telling me that you choked on your own vomit and fucking died?”

“Nikki…”

“Addiction isn’t just a heroin needle and a line of coke Tommy. It’s a bottle of Jack, Jim, and Jose. You can talk to me.”

And that’s what broke Tommy. That’s what broke the walls he was putting up and let the tears flow freely. Nikki pulled him into his chest, letting Tommy sob into his shirt.

“How do I stop?” Tommy asked. “I don’t know how to stop.”

“Let’s start by getting out of the studio,” Nikki told him. “Let’s get you a shower, and some food. I know a place you can go where they’ll help you, and I’ll help Brittany get the alcohol out of the house.”

“But I’ll fuck up again. I always do.”

“Not if you have a good support team behind you,” Nikki told him. “I know that not everyone can just give it up like I did. But I’m going to help you. You’re not alone T.” He kissed Tommy’s forehead.

“And you’re real…” Tommy just said, trying to make sure that his brain kept that in mind.

“Very real,” Nikki told him. “And I’m not going anywhere.” Tommy nodded and let Nikki help him out of the dim room. He cringed as the bright light hit him, but it was just natural sunlight. He could hear Neena and Wickey barking, wanting to go to him. He could hear Brittany ask Nikki if he was okay.

“He will be,” Nikki told her. “But he’ll need help. And we’re going to help him.”

Everything else seemed to blur. The shower, the food, the ride in Nikki’s car to the clinic. Tommy wanted it to work this time. He wanted to see his boys with sober eyes. He wanted to play his drums again. He wanted to make music.

“You know,” Nikki told him as they drove towards the place Nikki believed in, the place that helped him more times than he could count. “Mick said he wouldn’t mind playing again. And I’ve been talking with Netflix about picking up our story. Vince told me being solo isn’t the same anymore. So, if you do this, we could do some music for it.”

“Yeah,” Tommy nodded. Nikki reached out and squeezed his hand.

“I’ll be waiting here for you when you need me,” Nikki told him and Tommy only realized then that they had parked in front of the rehab. “They’re expecting you. They’re going to take good care of you.”

“What if I mess up again?” Tommy asked.

“Accidents happen,” Nikki told him. “But you don’t let them keep you down.” Tommy nodded.

“Thanks,” Tommy mumbled. “For everything.”

“I told you that I love you, and I’m not going to stand by and watch as a bottle drowns you,” Nikki smiled at him. He watched as Tommy got out of the car, carrying the bag that Brittany had packed for him. He needed to dry out. He needed to get the tools to help him climb out of this dark pit he was in.

Tommy looked back one more time, making sure that Nikki was still there and he hadn’t drove here by himself. Nikki had gotten out of the car and walked with Tommy to the door without the drummer even knowing. Taking a deep breath, Tommy stepped through the glass doors.

Because that first step was the hardest, but with Nikki there, he knew he could do it.


End file.
